


Kink Bingo!

by Giraffegon



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game), Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft, Herbert West - Reanimator - H. P. Lovecraft
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Choking, Collars, DONT FOLLOW RANDOLPH'S EXAMPLE, Deepthroating, Dom/sub, First Kiss, HE IS A STUPID BITCH, Light BDSM, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Revenge Sex, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Size Difference, So yeah, Spanking, There is almost nothing for this pairing, Underage Sex, Voyeurism, dont worry about randy he likes pain alright, its not focused on but it's mentioned, just in case, kink bingo, laurence is a massive slut not gonna lie, ludwig being sad, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2019-10-03 04:21:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17276972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Giraffegon/pseuds/Giraffegon
Summary: I have a kink bingo card and I'm ready to use it.More tags/relationships will be added as more chapters are written!Please enjoy my poorly written smut!Chapter 1: Randolph Carter/Richard Upton Pickman, First timeChapter 2: Ludwig/Laurence, VoyeurismChapter 3: Ludwig/Laurence, Size difference, Sequel to Chap. 2Chapter 4: Nyarlathotep/Randolph Carter, collarsChapter 5: Herbert West/Narrator, Sex Toys





	1. Randolph/Pickman, First Time

**Author's Note:**

> Randolph/Richard, loss of virginity!

When Pickman first arrived at the Carter family home, he had known the weather would be a bit of an issue. It was dry, but terribly cloudy, the dark rain-filled sky just waiting to burst. He hadn't even started painting before the dam had burst and heavy sheets were falling from the sky. It was a storm of almost biblical proportions- of course, this sort of weather was normal in the eyes of most Arkhamites, and the entire family seemed completely unperturbed. Indeed, the servants of the house did not even give it a single mention, and neither mother nor father of the Carter household deigned to acknowledge it. The only person who seemed at all disturbed was the young, extremely frail boy of the home, Randolph Carter. Pickman was, unfortunately, quite attached to the boy.

There was only a four year gap between them, but their mental and physical strength were so polarized it was almost comical. Yes, Randolph was a very thoughtful young man, and talented in writing, though ironically this did not translate to any social prowess. But he was so terribly nervous, and perturbed by almost everything that so much as squeaked at him. As far as Richard could tell (and he considered himself a fairly good judge), the poor thing spent half of his time sleeping, and the other half being scared out of his own skin. His parents would completely ignore this strange facet, but Pickman had often... 'overheard' them speaking about how their son was so terribly weak. To add another odd stacked against him, he was physically feeble and was often ill, too ill infact to properly sit to be painted. Richard couldn't help but pity the kid. So when he heard the first roar of thunder, he knew exactly how the rest of this day would go.

"Sit still or you'll ruin the painting!" Carter's mother scolded. Pickman rolled his eyes. Carter, of course, could not sit still. He was shaking, pale, and Pickman had seen quite enough of Randolph's frequent losses of consciousness in his short time with the family to know he would soon drop like a fly.

"I'm sorry!" He cried, his words barely distinguishable in the constant stutters. "But I-" His excuses were cut off by the audible smack of his mother's hand to his face. He stilled for a moment, but almost immediately restarted his hysterics, though this time he was visibly trying not to cry. Pickman tried to ignore the whole scene and paint, but the distracting combination of Randolph's obvious distress and Richard's own rising hatred for the woman in front of him rather stilted the process. He sighed deeply.

"Perhaps we should wait for a day where the weather doesn't... affect little Randolph so much, hm?" Carter's mother curled her lip and took another look at her son before rolling her eyes so intensely Pickman felt an urge to ask her what the inside of her head looked like.

She grumbled something which Richard took as consent to finish with the whole ordeal, and Carter's father was gone in an instant, leaving just the (deeply relieved) Randolph sitting in front of him, staring very directly at the taller boy. Pickman took a glance up from haphazardly shoving his brushes into their proper places.

"Need something, randy?" Pickman was suddenly very glad that his face was half obscured by the easel, for the sight of him desperately trying not to laugh at Randolph's reaction would likely kill the poor thing. Obviously he hadn't anticipated being caught staring- his face would have put a tomato to shame in it's redness.

"O-Oh! Me?" Pickman smirked.

"Is there anyone else here with that particular nickname?"

"Er, no, I... suppose not!" He laughed choppily, his eyes on the ground. "Well... I guess... Not... I was just... Thinking about the storm."

"Yes, it seems you were doing a lot of thinking about the storm!" Randolph flushed even more, shifting awkwardly in his seat.

"I just thought that- well, it doesn't seem like it's going to let up..." He trailed off into silence, seemingly going off into the fifth dimension. Richard peered at him for about a minute.

"Yes?" He urged.

Randolph jolted in his seat, and Pickman had to once again stop himself from breaking out into laughter. "Well, it's going to be difficult for you to get back home." The younger boy smiled shakily. "Wouldn't it be... less hassle to... stay here with us? J-just for tonight, and it was just a suggestion, and you don't have to-"

"I suppose it would," Pickman hummed thoughtfully. "I have to admit I didn't consider that. Look whose smarter than me, eh?" He chuckled.

Randolph seemed immensely calmed, until a crack of lightning cut through the sky. He immediately fell over and off the stool, evidently scared into a bout of fainting.

Carter's mother was exceedingly reluctant to let him stay, but even she was unable to deny that he would not be able to get home tonight, and begrudging allowed him to stay in a guest room. The whole house was massive- far bigger than his family's was- but he was able to find his allotted room rather efficiently. The sky was dark, but the clouds still lingered and the rain still pelted down, thunder and lightning occasionally making their presence known with a loud rumble or a wrathful strike. Pickman grunted appreciatively as he fell down on the soft bed. Yes, this would do well. Compared to his awful, uncomfortable mattress in his apartment in the city, this was heaven. He quickly shed his clothes, pulled the puffy duvet over himself and, nearly instantly, fell asleep.

This peace was short lived.

It wasn't the especially loud peal of lightning that woke Pickman up. No, that honour went to the frenzied rapping at his door, and the desperate cries of his name from the culprit. Groaning at the interruption, he rubbed his eyes into awareness. Another bolt of lightning rang through the sky, and the knocking intensified.

"Alright, Alright! I'm coming," he sighed. "Hold your damn horses!" He opened the door harshly and was immediately greeted with quite a sight. The knocker was none other than Randolph Carter, pale with obvious fear, his blonde hair ruffled, holding his night-gown up so he wouldn't trip, and the evidence of tears was clear on his face.

He stood in the doorway shaking, big blue eyes begging him for something. Pickman was baffled, until he realized he was waiting to be told he could come in. He huffed a laugh.

"You can come ins-" Randolph bolted so quickly that Pickman swore he could feel a breeze. He cried shaky thank you after shaky thank you, going straight under the covers and hiding. At this, Pickman couldn't help but grin, both from the younger boy's belief that somehow covers would protect him from loud noises, or a possible lightning strike, and the fact that Randolph had not noticed he was clad only in his underwear. He slowly made his way to the shivering ball in the bed, giving the hidden boy a gentle pat.

"So, what's your plan in here, randy?" No response. "You alive in there?" He chuckled, poking the lump gently.

"...yes." Pickman sat down on the bed and put an arm around Randolph. Almost immediately, his shivers slowed down.

"Well, you gonna stay like this forever?"

"...no." Randolph shuffled his cocoon to the side to make room, and, after a short pause, released his death-grip on the blankets, letting them fall loose on the bed. He hesitantly peeked from under his safe space, his blonde hair thoroughly tousled. Pickman got under the covers and playfully ruffled the short hair, laughing as the boy huffed.

"Since you've made yourself quite comfortable under the covers," he began, "I guess it would be cruel to cast you out."

Instantly Randolph's expression turned to one of guilt. "Oh! I'm sorry Richard, I didn't even think about... your sleep." He whimpered, turning the puppy dog eyes on the painter once again.

"It's alright, scaredy cat!" He declared, making himself comfortable in the bed once again. "You can sleep here. Just don't go dying in your sleep, huh?"

Randolph's brow furrowed at the morbid words, but he nodded enthusiastically. Taking this as a sign he could now ( _finally_ ) get back to sleep, he closed his eyes and tried to relax.

His attempts were short lived, however.

"...Richard?" A little voice called out. He opened his eyes, and was immediately taken aback by how close Randolph had gotten, his pretty face only showing mild signs of fear instead of the usual terror.

He really couldn't say he minded.

"What's wrong?" Randolph looked down and blushed, opening his mouth to start and closing it a few times before taking a deep breath to gather his courage.

"This might be inappropriate, but- I... I don't think that... Just being in the same bed is enough." Pickman raised an eyebrow.

"Well, what would be, then?"

"Could you- hold me?" He whispered, evidently embarrassed. "oh, forget it! No, I-I'm okay, you don-" His speech was cut when he suddenly had a strong pair of arms around him. "O-Oh..."

Pickman said nothing, but gently turned Randolph onto his other side, and held him as requested. "That good?" He purred in the blonde's ear. Randolph, seemingly not trusting himself to respond verbally, gave a shaken 'Mm-hm' and slowly calmed.

Pickman once again attempted to sleep, nuzzling his bed partner gently.

This time, sleep alluded him.

Having Carter so close to him was having an rather unforeseen effect. Pickman cursed his own mind as he tried to ignore his own thoughts, but there was no hope. Having Carter so close to him, chest to back, his face to his neck, and his groin at his... Pickman groaned. Trying and failing to keep his own traitorous mind at bay, he tried focusing on something, anything else- but his attention was ripped back to the small body beside him when a peculiar noise came out of the boy's mouth.

Pickman was convinced he had misheard, that he had finally gone mad, until it happened again.

Randolph Carter was moaning.

The first was quiet, the second far louder. It was undoubtedly sexual, and it only got worse. Pickman was completely transfixed. Randolph was a teen boy- it was nothing strange or unusual for him to have a wet dream or two. But for him to have one right beside him... Randolph moaned a third time, and Pickman decided to give up.

Embracing the situation, he decided he would simply enjoy the show being put on, the sparks of arousal from earlier growing into a fire.

Randolph huffed and panted, even whined in his sleep, but he had yet to speak. Boldly, Pickman ran his hand up and down the boy's thigh under his snow white night-gown, and gave a curious little lick to his neck.

Carter gasped and shook, but the storm had subsided.

The painter groaned along with him, giving his now painfully hard cock a stoke to try and relieve the pressure.

"Richard..." Carter whined, his voice soft.

_Well._

If he was turned on from the moans, knowing that HE was the source of the boy's fantasies nearly made him explode. Pulling his dick out to try and relieve his pain, he grunted into Carter's ear and he rubbed his cock head, trying to envision what Carter's version of him was doing.

"Yes!" The boy panted. "Yes- There! Richard!"

Pickman palmed his cock, returning his hand to Randolph's thigh and grabbing it slightly-

Randolph stopped moaning abruptly, and his eyes slowly opened.

"Have a nice dream?" Carter completely froze up.

"I- You- How... w-were..." He began, taking shallow breaths. Pickman chuckled darkly.

"Yes, I heard it all, Randy. Especially the part where you started calling my name. And I have to say, I enjoyed that the most..." Pickman grinned, tucking himself back in. Randolph hesitantly turned to see him, flushed and still gently panting. He began to get up.

"I'm s-sorry... I... should... leave!" He cried, his eyes were filled to the brim with unshod tears, doubtless from the embarrassment.

But Pickman stopped him with a firm hand on his wrist, and a dangerous glint in his eyes. He pulled, sending Carter tumbling back into bed with a gasp. As soon as he landed, Pickman was on him, and their lips met.

The painter restrained himself, going soft and gentle, trying to encourage the younger's response. At first, Carter was frozen, but it took only the soft swipe of Pickman's tongue on his lips for him to start kissing like he was parched for it. Carter was unskilled, but Pickman couldn't care less- his passion, his desire was more than satisfactory, and their desperate joining was soon interrupted by the only urge stronger at that moment.

They both gulped air, gazing at each other like it was the first time they had ever met. Pickman recovered quickly, grabbing Randolph again and setting him on his lap, moving so his back was to the headboard. Carter grabbed onto his shoulders, body still shaking.

"So," Pickman said conversationally. "Just what was it that got you so excited, huh?"

Carter's grip tightened, and he bit his lip. "Well?"

Randolph exhaled shakily, and shyly met his lover's eyes. "I... I dreamt about you..." He began. "Oh, you can't expect me to say it out loud!" He cried.

"I can't. You're right." Pickman chuckled. "But I know you want to. Deep inside, you want everyone to know- your father, mother, all of them- just how much you want me. Am I right?"

Carter was scandalized. At first, Pickman thought he read Carter wrong- but he felt the boy's cock twitch excitedly against his leg.

"I dreamt about you- f-fucking me!" He whimpered, throwing his head down and scrunching his eyes. Pickman hummed happily, gently patting Randolph's ass.

"That's what I wanted to hear," he purred. "Now, how about we make it a reality?" Carter's eyes shot up, shock staining his face.

Pickman raised an eyebrow at that. "Could you not tell where this was going?"

Randolph shifted uncomfortably, his ears burning.

"Err... No." He mumbled. "To be honest, I though you would kick me out, and everything would be... awkward."

"Even after I kissed you?" Pickman snickered.

Randolph pouted. "Don't make fun of me!" He scowled. His face grew sullen. "I don't know. I guess, no-ones ever... taken an interest. In me."

His eyes widened as he was slowly laid down on his back.

"Well, I've taken an interest in you, Randy, " Pickman murmured as gently as he could. "Do you want this?"

Carter's eyes were wide and soft, and he slowly nodded. "...Yes," he breathed. "A-a lot." Pickman chuckled, slowly bringing Randolph's night-gown over his head and tossing it to the floor.

He began running his hands down Randolph's body, relishing in how excited the boy got from just being touched.

"God, you're pretty." Carter's pink flush returned, and this time Pickman got to enjoy seeing it across his whole body. "I don't know how anyone hasn't taken you before." Carter said nothing, but his face told the painter all he needed to know.

He slowly leaned down and, without breaking eye contact with the blonde boy, kissed his neck deeply. Carter shivered, moaning as Pickman sucked a dark bruise on his neck. It was soon joined by many others, Pickman biting and sucking on every square inch of pale skin in his sight. As Pickman pulled away, he drank in the sight of Carter, panting and needy, desperate for him. He felt his cock twitch.

"Richard- I want it- you- so badly..." The boy gasped. "Please, I can't take anymore! Just-"

Pickman tutted him, moving back down to Randolph's chest. "Stay calm, Randy. Patience is a virtue, you know," he purred, accenting his end by licking a perky nipple. He rolled with his tongue, delighting in the sharp gasps he earned. He alternated between each, feeling his own cock getting painfully hard from each reaction.

Eventually, even his patience wore thin, and he pulled away from Carter to grab something in his pockets. Randolph whined desperately.

"W-What are you doing?" Pickman ignored his pleas to return until he found his prize.

He pulled back up and grinned wolfishly at the little blonde, showing him the vial of clear liquid. He returned to his needy lover, and smirked at his obvious confusion.

"It's to make everything a lot easier for us, Randy." Carter opened his mouth to respond, and Pickman silenced him with a quick peck.

"Let me take care of you, blondie." Randolph flushed at his most hated nickname, but his attention was pulled to something much more immediate.

Pickman had already put a finger in Carter, and examined him closely to try and gauge his pain.

He crooked his finger too harshly, and opened his mouth to apologize- but was shut up quickly by a desperate moan from his partner. Curious, he put another in him- it was too early, and it would likely hurt- but Randolph seemed to only enjoy it more.

How interesting.

Abandoning his previous caution, Pickman fingered Carter roughly. He was trying to be careful, but Randolph went wild for it, crying out in pleasure. Preparations were concluded quickly, and soon Pickman was slicking his own dick, sighing as the relief of pressure.

Carter looked up hungrily at him, and Pickman found he couldn't wait any longer. He pushed in, grabbing Randolph's hips tightly and groaning.

But his vocalizations were nothing compared to Carter. He practically screamed, no doubt waking a good few members of the homestead, and panted like a dog in heat.

He desperately grabbed onto Pickman's back, raking his nails and keening. Pickman bottomed out, giving the blonde a minute to adjust, before taking him in slow, deep thrusts. Randolph gasped for air like a drowning man, crying out _please, yes, more_ like it was a prayer.

His head was thrown back, and Pickman bit deeply into the pale flesh, adding a new mark to the ruined skin.

The more he fucked into the younger boy, the rougher he became- his thrusts getting faster, and his grip getting more and more tight, until he was sure he drew blood. But Carter didn't care, or rather, he enjoyed it even more.

He was too far gone to even react to the new pace, tears down his face from the sensations, and his voice rough from begging and crying out his lovers name.

Even Pickman- who prided himself on his composure- was damn near losing it, growling like an animal in Randolph's ear, groaning his name.

Suddenly, and to Carter's chagrin, he pulled out completely, and roughly flipped their position, so that Randolph was back on his lap.

He went back in and returned to his brutal pace, but at the better angle, Randolph was soon crying out voicelessly and shaking like a leaf from the hits to his prostate. Pickman felt his climax rising, and buried himself deep in the little blonde, as if trying to bury his seed as deep as he can.

Carter followed him immediately after, coming untouched and flopping over immediately after.

Pickman closed his eyes and breathed heavily, slowly pulling out and wincing from the over stimulation. He regained his composure, and gently picked up the boy, bringing him into his arms and under the blankets.

Carter, it seemed, had fainted for the second time today, and Pickman weakly chuckled, resuming their previous position in sleep.

This time, luckily, his sleep was not interrupted.


	2. Laurence/Ludwig, Voyeurism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurence isn't a very loyal lover...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all who may read this! This chapter is Laurence/Ludwig, Voyeurism.
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Vicar Laurence was a very convincing man.

He convinced his peers at Byrgenwerth to follow his vision, and he convinced those most skeptical men of Yharnam that their path was one of blood.

And he convinced Ludwig to be with him.

It wasn't as though Ludwig hadn't _tried_ to put up some kind of defense against the other man- yes, he did try. Told himself it was wrong to even _think_ of being with Laurence, and when he found his desires were reciprocated, _(very much so)_ he even tried to dissuade the Vicar. He had tried to take things slowly, to let Laurence change his mind if he was so inclined. But Laurence's greatest trait was Ludwig's despair, and he stayed, no matter how many times Ludwig insisted that he would not be bitter if he wished to preserve his reputation instead of their relationship.

It was not that he didn't want to be with Laurence- he did, desperately so- but his own values and respect made it... difficult. But Laurence was nothing but understanding to his plight. Surprisingly, for a man so stubborn and insistent, he took the concept of a 'hidden relationship' well, and seemed content with their few and far-in between encounters.

It was only now Ludwig could see why.

Hot and sunny days in Yharnam were seen as a curse more than a blessing- the sweltering temperature making the already pungent scent of blood increasingly off-putting. Of course, to one so drenched in both the thick blood of beasts and the sweet holy blood, it meant little, but perhaps provided an explanation to the general lack of presence in the Cathedral Ward- the streets nearly empty, aside from the pale faces of the servants who prowled, searching for signs of the Plague. He eyed them warily, and they tipped their hats in turn, a seemingly respectful gesture to their superior _(somehow, despite having completely neutral expressions, they always seemed to be sarcastic)_ , before continuing on their route. They didn't have a droplet of sweat upon them, and Ludwig gave them one last examination before continuing on his way.

His goal loomed in front of him, dark and imposing even in broad daylight. Of course, it was none other than the magnificent Grand Cathedral. Ludwig stepped into it's gloomy shadow, running a hand through his sweat-matted hair and sighing, thankful for any respite from the oppressive heat. He slowly opened the great doors, and entered the dark halls.

It was far cooler in the cathedral, and Ludwig was beyond thankful for it. The tepid cold that ran through the ornate hall meant that there were far more people walking around- hunters, clerics, and of course those who were both. All gave him either a deep bow or military salute, and Ludwig nodded respectfully back- but he would not be deterred from his goal. Laurence had requested to meet with him in his room- of course, Ludwig was not ignorant to what this meant. The Vicar always used this term to tell him when exactly it was appropriate for them to... despite himself, just thinking of being with his Vicar made him hot in the face- and not due to the warmth outside.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he stopped briefly to look at the massive clock. It was only five fifteen in the afternoon, and Laurence had invited him to his chambers at _exactly_  six o'clock, but he supposed he could be forgiven for being a bit early. After all, Laurence loved it when he admitted how much he wanted him, and his timely arrival would no doubt be a great pleasure to the Vicar's ego. Slowing his pace to a more moderate level _(after all, according to his calculations, he had about 45 minutes to spare)_ , he took in the dramatic scenery of the halls. No matter how many times he walked the hallowed chambers of the cathedral, he was impressed and inspired by it's powerful aura. He stopped to look around himself, taking in the-

A small noise rang through the air.

Ludwig turned sharply behind him, but no-one returned his gaze.

He again searched for the perpetrator, but no-one revealed themselves.

Narrowing his eyes and staying on guard for a minute or two, he eventually began to continue on his way.

But it came again.

This time, the source did not escape him. Now, it was clear just where it was coming from. A door, slightly ahead of him, was his new focus. What the noise was, he couldn't tell- but from the general timbre, he suspected he would have to give a few young hunters quite a serious talking to about just where they could and could not have forbidden liaisons with each other.

Ludwig sighed deeply, already preparing his speech and approaching the scene of the _(evidently ongoing)_ crime.

He had suspected a lot of things. But somehow, the image he was greeted with was not one of them.

He blinked a few times, confusion and disbelief seeming to cloud his vision, but the sight before him remained.

The first part was easy to comprehend.

It was Laurence, his hair out of it's tie and his fiery eyes burning with lust. It was a face he had seen many times before, and one that never failed to please him. He was nude, his back arched and his mouth open, the obvious source of the disturbance.

The second factor was not so simple.

A young man- possibly a new hunter- was sitting on an ornate chair, Laurence moaning on his lap. Who he was didn't matter- the only thing Ludwig saw was what he was doing, and his own betrayal unfolding before him.

Shocked, he could do nothing as Laurence righted himself and looked with open amusement into the eyes of the younger man before him, planting an indulgent kiss upon him. The hunter groaned and grabbed Laurence tightly, thrusting upwards in quick succession.

It was disgraceful.

The Vicar of the Healing Church, the Holy Institution thousands upon thousands believed in and flocked to, whining like a whore on some nameless recruits cock, completely shameless in his enjoyment.

Yet Ludwig found himself unable to look away.

Laurence took the situation into his own hands, detaching from the flustered hunter and, gripping his shoulders, began to ride his cock roughly, angling himself so he could best feel the pleasure it would bring him. As Laurence cried out, bouncing hard on the other man's member, Ludwig felt his own twitch. He tried to avert his eyes, but Laurence's crooning was too much to ignore, his cock soon growing uncomfortably hard.

It was wrong to watch this, even worse, to _enjoy_ it, he told himself. Of course, that didn't stop him from eagerly palming himself to relieve the pressure. The young man, it seemed, was not content to simply watch Laurence fuck himself- and with a decisive move, grabbed the Vicar and took him on the ground, nails digging deeply into his hips.

Instinctively, Ludwig jerked to defend his Vicar, but caught himself before disaster.

 _This is a disaster_ , his mind cried. _He's with another man in front of you!_

Ludwig hesitated, his mind torn between the rage inside him at the scene- and the carnal desire to drive his own pleasure. Laurence writhed on the ground, his hands pinned by one of the crafty hunter's. Completely undisturbed by the wholly disrespectful behavior, his orange eyes were lit with passion.

When Ludwig looked at those eyes...

_damn it!_

He gave up the fight, and giving himself to his own urges, roughly took his cock out. He licked his hand, never taking his eyes off the illicit scene before beginning to stroke his dick to the pace of the stranger's thrusts. The hunter in question had slowed his ministrations to a crawl, seemingly delighted in the Vicar's rising anger- and Laurence was quick to make his displeasure known. His angry demands were impressively quiet, but Ludwig found he could get the gist of it.

He would laugh at the enraged desperation of the blonde's voice- if not for the scene it played out in.

The hunter chuckled, unaware of his audience. He leaned into the infuriated man below him, and spoke cooly into his ear. What he said, Ludwig would likely never know, but Laurence's reaction was delicious.

He keened, breathing heavily and, after a pause, whispered something back.

At this the hunter laughed again, resuming his thrusting at a brutal pace. Laurence was all but screaming, his head back in ecstasy as he was fucked. The hunter was no better- groaning and growling like he was half-way to beasthood. Laurence moved like a wild thing, whipping his head around as if the sensations were driving him mad.

Laurence turned his head to where Ludwig watched, his eyes lidded and his mouth still open.

Ludwig froze- but it seemed Laurence had not seen him, the Vicar's head soon turned to be trapped in a biting kiss with the man above him.

Ludwig slumped, immensely relieved, before quickly returning to chasing his own pleasure, feeling his own climax coming sooner and sooner the more intensely the pair before him coupled. Laurence's cock was dripping, his cries rising in pitch and strength as his partner's thrusts got quick and choppy, his groans rivaling the blonde beneath him in their desperation.

It ended abruptly.

The hunter thrust one last time into Laurence, practically roaring as he emptied himself into the Vicar. Laurence moaned shakily, gasping as he was filled and reaching his own climax in turn. Ludwig came soon after- the sight of his lover, absolutely wrecked, was more than enough to tip him over the edge, despite the circumstances.

He wasted no time in tucking himself back in- for he knew the longer he spent watching the pair finish, the more likely it was he would catch the wandering eye of the Vicar. Quickly but cautiously walking out, he made a beeline straight to Laurence's quarters.

The door _(mercifully unlocked)_ was gently shut, and Ludwig went to the bathroom suite to clean himself.

He had been waiting for 5 minutes when Laurence returned.

Five past six. _Late for his own meeting._

"I hope you did not wait long, my hunter," came the liar's voice. "I'll have to apologize for my tardiness. I'm afraid that church waits for no-one."

Ludwig felt sick. But he said nothing.

Upon receiving no response, the Vicar sauntered over to him, draping himself over the larger man.

"Are you that angry, Lu?"

Ludwig sighed quietly, turned to Laurence and smiled.

"No, my Vicar. I forgive you."


	3. Laurence/Ludwig, Size Difference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurence/Ludwig, Size difference.  
> Direct sequel to chapter 2 =o=!!
> 
> Sorry for being MIA for so long, but I have regained writing motivation, and decided to write a sequel for chap.  
> 2 after being inspired by a kind commenter!!  
> I'm going to try to write a bit more frequently. I'm sorry if I'm a little flaky...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kudos, bookmarks and comments @u@  
> I had lost motivation for writing these for a long while, but I hope to write a bit more regularly now! I can't promise anything, though. Thank you for reading!

Ludwig didn't mention it. Not to begin with, at least.

_He has to tell me._

Laurence tugged roughly at his roots.

_He has to._

Laurence let out a pleasured moan as Ludwig massaged his hips.

_Right?_

 Laurence writhed on his lap. His mouth- though occupied with Ludwig's- still found the time to let out desperate moans. How any man could be this excited after just coming down was truly a mystery only the Old Ones could know.; nevertheless, Ludwig waited for him to finally detach himself, to look his lover in the eyes and to finally, finally admit what he'd done.

Ludwig would of course forgive him; he was always weak for the man, after all, and Laurence would tearfully swear to never stray again. Of course, it was nothing more than an idle fantasy to believe Laurence could ever possess such self-awareness, and even more outlandish to consider he could confess he had done wrong. But Ludwig was nothing if not a hopeful man, and dutifully ran his hands up and down his diminutive lover while the Vicar crooned his approval. Ludwig kept his hopes up,- even when Laurence did deign to unlatch himself from Ludwig's mouth, it was only to moan for more, or to say Something filthy about the man he clung to. He ground onto Ludwig like a man starved, dragging his nails over Ludwig's (now clearly exposed) back and cooing softly.

How much he loved him.

How incredible he was.

The fire it fueled was close to raging.

Ludwig knew he was going too slow for Laurence. What had started as giving Laurence as many opportunities as possible to confess soon became something darker. As time had passed Ludwig's previous optimism had died a slow and painful death and the realization dawned that no- Laurence would not give up the truth. Not voluntarily, at least. So the tactic that came out of compassion was used to torment the increasingly impatient man sitting firmly atop him. Ludwig rubbed Laurence's back at an agonizing pace, not going near his glaringly erect cock. As Laurence became rougher, and his begs more insistent, the roaring fire in Ludwig rose up to consume him.

Of course Laurence's greed was what turned him to ash. "By the Gods, Ludwig- fuck me already- what are you waiting for?"

It went by like a flash of lightning.

Laurence was on his back, his eyes wide with shock and Ludwig's strong hands rested on his neck. Not pushing, not hurting, but certainly reminding Laurence of their presence. He gasped and tried to grab the offending appendage. He was quickly pinned.

Ludwig looked at him expectantly. "That was... Not what I had expected," Laurence murmured. His confident smile returned. "But if that's how you want it, I won't-"

"Admit it, Laurence."

The cogs turning in the Vicar's head were painfully obvious that it was laughable; and Ludwig would- if, of course, he wasn't so enraged. The confidence was replaced in quick succession by realization, shock and lastly, a look of confusion so blatantly fake it was an affront to the art of acting.

"I... Have no idea what you're talking about, Ludwig..." He gently attempted to escape from Ludwig's hearty grasp. He failed, and the grip on both his hands and throat tightened.

"Don't play the fool with me, Laurence." Ludwig spat.

His heart ached at Laurence's doe eyes, but the manipulative glare in his eyes kept the flames strong. "I know what you did. I... I saw you."

Laurence said nothing.

His eyes laid cautiously on Ludwig, and his breathing was significantly more labored under the man's tight grasp. Ludwig snorted derisively. "Nothing to say now that you've been caught, eh?" He drew his face up to Laurence's until their noses nearly met. "You weren't so silent when you were writhing under that... man." At this, Laurence's eyes narrowed.

"So you watched us, then?" It was Ludwig's face that lit with a blush now.

"I- No more than I had to." He increased His grip on Laurence's wrists, and the man beneath him squirmed. "So, you admit it?"

"Ludwig..." the Hunter's eyes widened as he realized what he was looking at. Laurence's head turned to the Side, his face red and his eyes full of tears. "Please- Forgive me..." His head turned, their eyes met and the fire went out. Ludwig sighed heavily, and his grip slackened.

"Do you truly mean that?" Laurence's eyes still showed his remorse.

"Yes! Oh, Ludwig!" He cried. Ludwig winced at the desperation in his eyes and all but let go of him. "I love you, Ludwig." He brought his arms around his larger lover and kissed him in as chaste a way he knew. Ludwig took him in his grasp willingly, and the fire that raged had quelled to embers.

Naturally, Laurence had to stoke the flames.

"Of course," he whispered, "we had never agreed to be exclusive. So really-"

Laurence was grabbed and flipped before he could utter another word of defense. His cry was far louder this time, and Ludwig had no doubt that a good portion of the Church had heard. Ludwig took a firm grasp- one hand tight enough to bruise on the Vicar's hips, the second wound in his hair, pulling his head close enough to feel Ludwig's breath. "You are a despicable man, Laurence," he growled. Laurence shivered; whether it was from fear or arousal, Ludwig could not tell. "Do you find enjoyment in toying with me like this?" He received no answer, and tugged on the Vicar's hair. "Answer me." Laurence let out a breathless chuckle and attempted to stabilize himself before responding.

"Perhaps. But I think you get just as much 'enjoyment' out of catching me in the act," he purred. "Don't try to tell me you didn't touch yourself watching it, Lu-" A firm smack on the ass was all it took to send Laurence into silence with a rather undignified whimper. Ludwig grabbed Laurence's trousers and ripped them- throwing them flippantly into some forgotten corner of Ludwig's room; Laurence's pitiful cries went unheeded as Ludwig smacked him again, his ass already bright red from the abuse. Laurence squirmed and rubbed against Ludwig's aching cock as the larger man proceeded to rip his shirt and robes off, giving the dusky pink nipples peaking on his chest a firm squeeze, chuckling at the responding moan.

"Such a slut you are, Laurence. I suppose I should never have doubted you were whoring yourself out to any man who would have you." Laurence desperately moaned, arching his back and pushing himself against his lover. Ludwig snorted. "It seems patience is not one of your virtues, but I suppose I already knew that., hmm?" Ludwig began undoing his own trousers, letting out a pleasured sigh as his aching erection was freed. He gave it a brief stroke, watching, amused, as Laurence stared hungrily at his member from where he was held. The Hunter spat into his Hand and slicked his cock. His eyes followed Laurence's as they slowly widened with dawning realization.

"You... I-Is that all you're going to do?" He gulped. Though his voice told a tale of fear, his cock rapidly dripping onto Ludwig's bedsheets told another.

"For a cheating philanderer such as yourself, Laurence?" Ludwig growled, lining himself up to Laurence's waiting entrance. "I think not. After all, you should still be well stretched enough from your previous escapade." Laurence spluttered, canting his hips as if unsure whether to welcome to or escape the Incursion. "He was hardly as big as you..." The Vicar coughed.

"Well," Ludwig chuckled, "I suppose you'll just have to pay for it." With this, Ludwig pushed in ruthlessly, fully sheathing himself as quickly as he entered. Laurence screamed hoarsely, arching his back like a cat while his head was still held aloft by Ludwig's steady hand. His hole stretched rapidly around his lover's girth, the larger man's body enveloping his as it was arched over him. Ludwig groaned lowly, giving Laurence no time to adjust as he brutally fucked him.

Ludwig's hand returned to the Vicar's hips, holding hard enough to bruise as the man beneath him cried and begged, unable to form more than monosyllabic pleas. Ludwig's thrusts became more and more intense, and while his groans increased, Laurence's ecstatic moans more than drowned them out- and they were not doubt carrying all across Yharnam. He clawed desperately at the sheets as the bed rocked with the force of Ludwig's increasingly erratic thrusts - he could feel himself getting close to the edge.

Suddenly, he stopped.

The rage in Laurence's cry was clear as the source of his pleasure was cut so dramatically short. "L-Ludwig! What in the name of the Gods are you doing!" He writhed angrily and roughly attempted to turn his body in order to properly assault the man still inside him. Ludwig gave him no quarter and forced him still, leaning close into his ear. "If you want it," he grunted, "you'll have to do it yourself."

The change in Laurence's demeanor was palpable. His hatred turned tail into lust in an instant, and Ludwig moaned in surprise as the Vicar immediately began working himself back onto Ludwig's cock.

He fucked himself hard and fast, his pants becoming higher and his cries louder as he hurtled ever closer to his peak. The feeling of Laurence pleasuring himself on him, his tight walls and the grin on his face was too much. Ludwig grabbed Laurence's hips, slamming him into the bed as he thrust into Laurence like an animal.

It was Laurence who came first; shaking, and with a final, noiseless scream, he collapsed on the bed with a thump. Ludwig groaned, the tightness of Laurence's body too much to bear- and followed him over the edge, biting deeply Into the shivering man below him as he filled him. He thrust twice more, weakly, before pulling out slowly- earning him a whimper from his lover- and promptly toppling over beside him.

When both men had come down from their high, Ludwig was surprised to see Laurence examining him.

His hair was messy and his face still red from both exertion and tears, but there was something in his eyes that spoke of some kind of realization. They stayed like that for what could've been seconds, or what could've been hours- but when the moment passed, Laurence had found his way into his arms, burying his face into Ludwig's chest.

He muttered something, but it was lost. Ludwig scoffed, gently, and raised up his lovers head.

He looked ashamed.

It was a strange thing to see.

Laurence looked sideways as if gathering his courage before meeting the other man's eyes.

"I said- that I'm sorry."

Ludwig let his hands gently pass through the Vicar's hair and said nothing.

Laurence looked At him imploringly, but he gave no response. "Please," Laurence said, taking one of Ludwig's hands into both of his. "Ludwig. I can't- I am truly sorry for what I did- but if you were... To leave me-" He said nothing more before he was grabbed bodily by Ludwig, and brought tightly into his embrace.

"I forgive you, Laurence," he sighed. "I'll always forgive you." 


	4. Randolph/Nyarlathotep, Collars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Randolph is a cam-boy with a mysterious patron. What will happen when they meet?
> 
>  
> 
> Sex.  
> A lot of sex.

Randolph wasn't surprised to receive another package. It had become a strange ritual- he'd wake up every other day to a rather sizeable package left on his door, filled to the brim with designer clothes and heaps of cash. Randolph had tried to intercept the postman; to check where these gifts came from, but the answer was always a non-plussed shrug and a half hearted promise to check at the office. Nothing came of it. Despite this, Randolph had a fairly good sense of who this mysterious benefactor was- and, evidently, what they wanted.

It had began out of desperation.

College life was wearing him down- his parents had died and funds were dwindling. But jobs were hard to come by, and as it seemed most tended to be too abrasive. Yes, it was desperation that brought him to create an account and start recording himself, on his knees, back, anything, for others to watch. Things started off slow; donations were low as well as rare, and the immense shame Carter felt was unbearable at times.

But it was all to change suddenly.

Too suddenly.

He had garnered a rather sizeable viewing for himself- a fact he wasn't sure whether to be proud of ashamed of- when he received a rather simple request. It wasn't anything new; he had received a few before, and performed anything he wasn't affronted to, and he took no issue with this one. After all, wearing a collar was hardly anything ground breaking, and although buying one would be more than a little embarassing (he was right. He tried going to a pet store at first. It was not a good idea) he could certainly do it if it meant financial compensation. He went through with it the next night, and was surprised and pleased to see how much money he had accumulated from such a simple task.

Of course, everything had to complicate itself.

When Randolph checked in the aftermath, it seemed almost the entirety of the donations were from one account- one he had never before seen watching him. It wasn't anything shocking, and he thought no more of it as he logged out and prepared for bed. After all, this was just a one time thing.

 _Right_?

Every day after that, they were there. Everyday, they'd donate more than three quarters of the total. It was after a week of this the packages started arriving. Ever since they'd tuned in everyday, Randolph had been suspicious; the packages arriving only sent it skyrocketing.

But his quest to find the identity of his mysterious benefactor had met with nothing, and it was with resignation that he sighed and picked up the latest box. There was no point in rocking it; by now, he knew what it contained. As well as the clothes and money, it would always contain something for him to wear the next night. True, this one was considerably smaller, but there was nothing to imply it would be any different. Perhaps his 'long distance lover' was running out of cash. He chuckled to himself and headed inside, already on his way to the boxcutter.

_This was new._

Of course, there was the usual clothes and money, but this was all under the sealed letter addressed to his name. Fear took hold of him, and his eyes widened. He shakily lifted the letter from the cardboard, his mind working overtime as he thought of reason after reason they could have cause to address him directly.

_Was it because I've been snooping?_

_How would they know?_

He slowly opened the letter.

_Was it the mailman?_

_Oh Christ, it **was** the mailman! _

He took it out of its envelope, and steadied himself.

 _If it's the mailman_ , Randolph thought, _I'm going to be fucking pissed._

_Dear Randolph Carter,_

_I have watched you for several months now, as you well know. I hope you have enjoyed the money I have given you, as well as the packages. I know you are curious as to who I am, and it is my great hope that you will be pleased to meet me. As for what I want in return for what I have given- well, you're a smart boy, aren't you? Come to the Waterfront Hotel at 8 pm tonight. Come straight to room 84._

_With love,_

_your admirer_.

Randolph narrowed his eyes and re-read it. Unsurprisingly, no secret message was to be found, and to satisfy his fevered mind he tried again. Nothing.

The Waterfront Hotel was the most expensive in the Miskatonic valley. He knew his benefactor had money, but... it was an exclusive club. Even if you _were_ rich, there was no guarantee you could get in.

_Just who is this guy?_

It was these thoughts that crowded Randolph's mind as he paced through his room at the strike of six o' clock. His cats, clearly sensing his agitated state, attempted to soothe him; but not even his beloved pets could calm his aching mind. It seemed dangerous. He didn't even know this guy. But surely he didn't have bad intentions; _after all, who would give so much to someone just to murder them in a fancy hotel room?_ His mind made up, Carter began to look for something adequately formal to wear. Perhaps there was little point in wearing his best clothes when they would likely be ripped off of him, but it was the thought that counted.

It was 7:30 when Randolph left his house. The waterfront hotel was a 20 minute drive, and although he was loathe to admit it to himself, Randolph felt more than a prick of fear at what could happen if he were late- or if his suitor believed he hadn't come. The drive was not a peaceful one as troubling thoughts dashed through Carter's head; but even more troubling were the arousing images that made him flush and shift in his seat. What his suitor would look like, how he would treat him and most importantly what he would _do_ were the foremost in his mind as he pulled up to the waterfront.

He checked his watch.

7:53.

He took a deep breath and opened the doors.

The pure luxury of the place was so over the top that Randolph was almost disgusted. He didn't belong here; that much was clear. As he walked towards the stairs, the receptionist gave an alarmed look around before quickly calling him over. She cleared her throat expectantly, and when Randolph said nothing she frowned. "Excuse me, sir, but I do not recall you being one of our patrons. If you would be so kind as to give me your name..."

"I'm not."

She blinked slowly a few times, and Randolph repressed the urge to laugh. "I'm... sorry?" Randolph rolled his eyes in mock anger and folded his arms. She looked at him with what could only be described as immense concern. "I've actually been invited to one of your patron's rooms." Suddenly her eyes became amused and her manner condescending. "Oh? I haven't heard that one before!" Randolph's frown was genuine now. "Why don't you just run along? If you can't give me their room-"

"Eighty four."

Her eyes widened with fear. "Eighty... eighty f-four?" Now Randolph was intrigued. He leaned back and raised his brow. "84? What's wrong with it?" She lowered her head. "I'm sorry sir. Please accept my apologies, sir," she whispered, unemotive. "You may head up, sir." Anxious yet excited, Randolph bade the shaking girl goodbye as he entered the elevator. She didn't respond. Something was wrong, surely- but once Randolph had his heart set on something, nothing could dissuade him.

Carter took only a moment to collect himself before he knocked on the mahogany door. He had never before been intimidated by the number 84, but he supposed there was a first time for everything. There was silence on the other end for a good while- yet just before he was about to knock again, the door opened a crack.

Randolph looked bewildered at the ajar door, unable to see through to the other side. "H... Hello-" It slammed shut; Randolph jumped despite himself. He opened his mouth to speak again when the door abruptly slammed open all the way.

The room appeared empty as Randolph stepped in.

_This is how horror movies start, isn't it. I'm the dumb blonde who dies at the start!_

Randolph took a cursory look before the door again closed, though far more gently. Carter whipped around- just in time to catch the eyes of his admirer.

He was a tall, slim Egyptian man; dressed in what appeared to be a very fine suit and had thick, black curly hair. Randolph flushed as he man smirked at him, bringing his handsome features into light. Carter cleared his throat and turned away. "So... you.... invited me here?" The man chuckled in a very musical way. Randolph felt like he could fall asleep to it. "Why of course, dear," the man purred, crossing the distance between them in one step. He gently tilted Randolph's chin and looked deeply into his eyes. "After all I've done for you," he continued, "am I not deserving of some trust?" Randolph's mouth was set agape, unable to retort. The man took quick advantage of this; he suddenly pressed his open mouth onto Randolph's instantly deepening the kiss. Carter responded quickly as the man's mouth connected with his, groaning as the man sucked on his lip. He gently pushed the man away, pleasantly surprised when he yielded. The man gazed down at him, his expression unreadable.

_Wow, does he have yellow eyes?_

_He does._

_Wait... is it even possible to hav-_

"Is there an issue?" Randolph bit his lip, spluttering as he tried to put his feelings into words.

"Ah- well- I'm going to be honest," Carter began. The man prompted him to continue. "I don't know you. At all. I don't know your real name, I don't know your age- nothing." Carter tried to gauge his reaction, but again found it impossible.

"Does that not increase the interest?" The man smiled, but it was not kind. Randolph furrowed his brow. "Well, I suppose so," Randolph purred, his confidence rising. He leaned in close to the tall man and kissed his ear. "But I'd like something to moan when you're... in me, don't you?" Randolph could tell his confidence surprised the man, but groaned when he heard a deep chuckle reverberate in his bones.

"Nyarlathotep."

"N... Nyarlathotep."

Nyarlathotep purred, rubbing his hands slowly down Carter's back and massaging his ass. "You sound beautiful saying my name, Randolph." Carter moaned wantonly, throwing his head back eagerly. Nyarlathotep rubbed his hand over the smaller man's neck, his eyes taking over the exposed flesh. "So beautiful..." Randolph sucked in a breath as Nyarlathotep ran his teeth along his collar bone.

_His teeth are really sharp._

_Wait, wha-_

A scream let loose as those teeth had suddenly sunk deep into Randolph's neck. He gasped, tears flooding his eyes as Nyarlathotep pulled off with a very satisfied moan. He gently ran a finger along the wound, much to his partner's displeasure. "W-what the hell was that!" Nyarlathotep ignored his whines and detached completely, leaving a bewildered and bleeding Carter behind as he strolled over to the bed. It took a moment before Randolph realised what was expected and quickly made his way to where Nyarlathotep stood, seemingly deep in thought. Apparently having made up his mind, he elegantly bent down to grab something under the bed, bringing up a (rather large. _There's something going on here..._ ) box. It jingled as it was smoothly set down and opened by the man's hands. Randolph, unsure of what to be doing, awkwardly peered over Nyarlathotep's shoulder; and immediately wished he hadn't.

The box was filled to burst with things that the mere mention of would make his mother faint, and that made even him flush an embarrassingly red tone. Sex toys, various types and lengths of rope, what appeared to be gags and a variety of intimidating looking items that Randolph neither knew nor wanted to know the use of. Randolph bit his lip, anxiety rising as Nyarlathotep gently dug through the box, each time bringing up up more and more exotic instruments that made Randolph shiver. Unable to take it anymore, Randolph moved backwards; just as his partner had found what he was looking for.

Nyarlathotep turned to him, smirking at him. "No need for such paranoia, dear," he purred. "Take a look at it. I'm sure it's familiar to you." Randolph gave the man a look before gently accepting what was put in his hands. He was right- it wasn't anything he didn't know, and Randolph let out a long held breath. It was just a collar; until he looked at it closely, and he realised just what he was looking at.

His eyes widened and Nyarlathotep chuckled. It was the same that he had worn the first time the man had watched him. "Will you put it on me, then?" Nyarlathotep seemed surprised at this, though not unpleasantly so. He sauntered over and plucked the collar from Carter's hands. He gave the back of Randolph's neck one last run before he cautiously fastened the collar around the pale skin. Randolph tested the the collar's tightness and found it was a perfect fit.

"It seems you guessed my size perfectly," Randolph chuckled.

"Oh, it wasn't a guess."

Carter was given no time to react before he was whipped around and grabbed by the chin, his mouth crashing against Nyarlathotep's. Dazed, he attempted to keep up with the man's excited movements but found it was easier to simply allow him to do as he pleased. Satisfied, the other man pulled away and lowered himself onto the bed leaving his partner gently swaying in confusion. Carter stumbled around, his eyes glassy.

"Kneel down, Randolph," came the command. After a second of letting the order register, Carter was down in front of the man, his eyes wide and he gazed at Nyarlathotep. The man seemed relaxed as he carded his hands through his partner's hair; it only made Carter feel more on edge.

"Suck me off."

Randolph nodded weakly and raised his hands to undo the man's trousers-

"Don't use your hands," he grinned.

Randolph gave the other man an exasperated look as Nyarlathotep looked all too satisfied with himself. Resigning himself to the task, he leaned in close in between the man's legs, taking the zipper between his teeth and gingerly pulling at it. It took more than a few attempts- but he succeeded, and after painstakingly undoing a stubborn button, he was able to pull them down around the man's ankles.

_Oh._

_He's not wearing underwear._

Face to face with Nyarlathotep's erection, Randolph found himself far more aroused than he might've liked, his own cock straining against his trousers painfully. He looked at the man above him pleadingly, but was given only a rather harsh prompting to 'get on with it'.

Preparing himself mentally, he took the warm head into his mouth, gently sucking and licking as he adjusted himself to the feeling. Slowly taking an inch, he tried desperately to control his reflexes- it had been a long while since he'd done this last- before his hair was abruptly tugged.

Randolph only had a moment to realise what was happening before he was pushed firmly onto Nyarlathotep's cock, brought all the way down on to the base as he sputtered and choked around the obstruction. All he could do was desperately control his gagging while Nyarlathotep groaned in pleasure. He was given no time to adjust before he was viciously forced upwards and down again in quick succession. Tears flowed freely down his reddened cheeks as he was fucked, gagging desperately from the cock shoved down his throat. His vision swam and darkened- suddenly, it all stopped.

He collapsed, taking lungfuls of air like a drowning man as his throat was emptied, coughing and sputtering under the intense gaze of the man in front of him. Carter's watery eyes met Nyarlathotep's. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. His chin was again lifted as he looked nervously at the still erect dick before him. "What's wrong, Randolph?" Nyarlathotep purred, his eyes full of cruel amusement. "Cat got your tongue?" Carter rolled his eyes while the man chuckled.

"I take it that... THAT wasn't all you wanted?" Nyarlathotep leaned in close before languidly licking the shell of his ear.

"No," he whispered. The sound was intoxicating. "Get on the bed- on all fours."

Randolph took a shaky breath and willed himself to comply, buzzing with excitement and trepidation in equal measures; that was what he told himself. His hands and knees planted firmly on the bed, he waited for his partner- instead, he was given the sound of hands rooting through a drawer before a triumphant 'ah-hah!' followed by the light steps of Nyarlathotep approaching. Nyarlathotep's remaining clothes were quickly divested, and Randolph's followed swiftly.

Carter's cock dripped as Nyarlathotep ran his hands over his ass before he slowly rubbed toward Randolph's neck- attaching something onto the collar when he met it. It jangled and fell limply. Carter saw it in the corner of his eye.

 _A leash_.

"I'll be fucking you now, if you aren't averse." Randolph gasped and flushed. How anyone could be so direct about carnality was something of a mystery to him. "I... I am not averse." He ground onto the air, his arousal hot between his legs as he grew more desperate.

"That much is obvious, _Randy_." Carter's eyes widened. "But id like to hear just how... enthusiastic you are." Nyarlathotep kissed his jawline, sucking on the skin enough to bruise.

_He expects me... to..._

Randolph scrunched his eyes, the mortification of being so exposed cutting into him. Nyarlathotep pulled roughly at the lead, and he choked; his manhood twitched. Randolph pointedly ignored the fact. "P... please, Nyarlath-"

"Call me... master," the man smiled. Carter bit his lip, shifting himself to press onto Nyarlathotep's cock, earning a groan from the taller man. "Yes, master," Randolph crooned. Nyarlathotep made a pleased sound. "Please... master... I need it- I need you." The words came out weakly.

"Louder," Nyarlathotep hissed. "Tell me how you need me. _Every_ detail." Carter moaned as Nyarlathotep pulled the lead taught, his breathing getting shallow.

"Please, Master," he cried, "I need you! More than anything-" He desperately sucked in a breath as Nyarlathotep pulled the lead further. "Need- you, inside!" He moaned, his voice going hoarse as he was choked.

"Yes, yes..." the lead was loosened marginally. "Tell me more..." Randolph's eyes fell shut in pleasure as Nyarlathotep's slick finger teased his entrance.

"Please, I want- i need your... cock, inside of me," he sighed. "More than anything- please, show me... that you _own_ me..."

Randolph cringed despite himself at both the vulgarity and the vulnerability. Yet it seemed they were received well; Nyarlathotep pushed his finger in while biting deeply again into Carter's shoulder, opposite his first. His pace was fast and brutal. He added another finger quickly and pushed them in roughly, much to Randolph's reluctant pleasure.

The lead still pulled tight against his throat, Carter's breaths were quick, shallow and almost entirely used for moaning shamelessly as the force of Nyarlathotep's skilful fingers shoved his body into the bed while his head remained raised, each brush of his cock against the bed bringing more and more intense pleasure.

Nyarlathotep added a third, and Randolph could no longer think. The sinful pleasure and the aching pain fed off of eachother; it was no doubt Nyarlathotep's design.

Seemingly satisfied with the preparation, the man removed his fingers with no mercy leaving Carter empty and without satisfaction. He whined and grasped at the sheets pathetically while the man behind his slicked his cock, the lead being momentarily forgotten.

Carter swallowed.

The collar moved against him.

Nyarlathotep's cock sat leaking against his entrance, rubbing teasingly as Nyarlathotep again pulled the lead. "Tell me that you want it," he rumbled, giving Carter's ass an encouraging smack. "Tell me who owns you." Randolph keened and licked his lips, the desperation making him weak.

"Master- I want it... badly." A second smack, and Randolph arched his back for more. "Y-You! _You own me_! Master, I-"

Nyarlathotep rammed in.

Randolph screamed. Nyarlathotep gave him no time to adjust; instead, he set a punishing pace, slamming Carter into the bed while he held the lead tight. Randolph was too far gone to speak or think- the deep pleasure and agony seared his mind like a brand; tears fell down his red cheeks and drool dripped from his open mouth. He writhed and coughed as the lead was pulled tighter, the lack of air bringing exquisite pleasure.

Carter could only cry out _master_ and _more_ in increasingly heightened tones as he approached his peak; Nyarlathotep was following him, his thrusts becoming more and more erratic as he adjusted his position to properly mount his lover, slamming in faster and harder than before. He groaned and spanked Randolph again, moving his hand down to his stomach, feeling the movement of his own cock deep in Randolph's body.

The feeling of the collar tight on his neck, the cock in his body and Nyarlathotep's hands all over him was too much for Carter. Holding onto the sheets like a life line, Carter arched his back and cried openly while his cock spurted onto the sheets below him, his vision going white as he came.

The tight feeling of his lover's insides and the sound of his pleasure was more than enough for Nyarlathotep; he shoved in one last time before filling Carter with his seed. The heat inside him made Randolph's cock give a final, weak twitch before he collapsed, the lead slipping from Nyarlathotep's hands.

The man pulled away before gently laying beside him, both laying on the silken pillows. Nyarlathotep was the first to regain composure- sitting up, he gently adjusted the now sleeping man before his into a more comfortable position. He did not stir. Nyarlathotep removed the lead and unlatched the collar from his lover's neck, admiring the irritated skin and the dark bruises on his shoulder, courtesy of Nyarlathotep's own mouth. He smiled, dressed and left. "Good night, Randolph Carter," he whispered, giving the man a single kiss on the cheek. He gently pressed a piece of paper into his hand. "I'll be seeing you soon, I imagine." With that, he left.

When Carter awoke, he was not surprised to see he was alone. Although it was a bit strange for the man to leave his own hotel room, he didn't imagine there would be any cuddling. He sighed and stretched his aching bones, cringing at the state of his body- the bruises, bites and most unpleasantly, the fluids. Something crinkled in his hand. Unfolding the paper, Randolph studied the script;

_Dear Randolph Carter,_

_I thoroughly enjoyed our night together. This hotel room is yours for a week; the staff will ask no questions. There are plenty of clothes in your size, and everything you purchase will be put on me. Don't worry about the cost- money is no object to me. I hope to see you again, my dear. Although I'm sure that we both know how true that is._

_I await to meet again, Nyarlathotep._

Randolph smiled despite himself, and folded the paper beside his bed.


	5. Herbert West/Narrator, toys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off of the book, not the movie ;P

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this, I refer to the Narrator of Reanimator as William, FYI.

The front door slammed.

William was on guard instantly- with all the vengeful zombies who seemed to be chasing after them, it was only natural. Although it was perhaps a bit of a stretch to say that they would be so polite as to open the door instead of simply breaking through it, considering how well the reanimations had been going ( _William was equally parts proud and distressed at this_ ) it was within the realm of possibility that one might have developed a courteous streak and decided to perhaps cook them a nice dinner before they were consequently ripped to shreds.

Taking out the revolver that Herbert had enforced he carried, he slowly stalked his way to the door. He cocked his gun, but did not put his finger on the trigger. Cautiously, he turned the corner to face the door, and-

It was Herbert.

William breathed a deep sigh of relief and collapsed onto the wall. Herbert seemed angry, but his eyes softened as he noticed his assistant. He nodded towards the now disregarded firearm.

"Feeling a little jumpy?" William chuckled mirthlessly.

"You say that as though you're not the one who insists I carry this... thing." He looked with disgust at the revolver. Herbert's face was unreadable. "You'd have done the same." At this, West laughed- or, the closest thing he ever got out that sounded like something amused- as he hung up his black coat.

"I don't think so."

William raised his brow and smirked. "Really?"

Herbert turned to him, sneering in what a less acquainted man would see as a cruelty. William knew better.

"I'd have had my finger on the trigger," he purred. Suddenly, William felt less than safe. "I would've already gotten out a shot."

With this, Herbert huffed another half-laugh and turned briskly to the living room. William shivered despite himself and followed.

Their apartment was pathetically small; though considering its prime location, both men were more than willing to look beyond it. As it stood, it was only a block away from the Christchurch graveyard- easily close enough to smuggle a cadaver, though Herbert had recently employed two immigrant workers for the task.

"You'll not _believe_  what that ignorant old maid told me today!"

Herbert's soft voice always seemed to out of place when he spoke the words he did- it was alien to hear such a sweet voice and body throwing gratuitous curses at the ( _luckily unaware_ ) dean, or to casually bring up the latest death in the papers. On this occasion, it seemed as though William would be treated to the former.

Herbert poured a glass overflowing with wine before immediately downing it. "Told me that ' _you'll never get any lab space from me, young man_ '!" William let out a guilty giggle at Herbert's childish impression. It was spot on.

"' _These **degenerate**  ideas of yours will never gain traction so long as I live and breathe_'," Herbert spat. He poured another glass as his assistant took the space beside him. Mercifully, he only took a sip.

"Sounds like he's got you pretty fired up." Herbert looked at him like he had three heads.

"Yeah, no shit. Did you lose a few brain cells while I was gone?" At this, William could no longer contain his amusement and doubled over, wheezing hysterically. Herbert's face was carefully neutral- all of his rage was held in his eyes. William finally calmed himself, and wiped his eyes as the last remnants of his fit left him. He gave Herbert an apologetic look to which the small man bristled and quickly swallowed the rest of his wine.

"You need to relax," William said in as gentle a manner as possible.

Herbert did not relax.

Will set an encouraging hand on his arm; "it's not healthy to be so bit- uh..." William panicked as he searched for the right word, jumping out of his skin when Herbert's hand touched the arm that held him. He looked, baffled, as Herbert's eyes fell upon his.

"You're... right," Herbert sighed. He gently rubbed his partner's arm, shifting to face him. "I suppose I am _slightly_ too... aggravated." William blinked slowly. Herbert appeared to make up his mind- he bounced up ( _thoroughly startling his assistant_ ) and marched to the bedroom, again slamming the door. William winced.

 _The neighbours are going to complain_ , he thought absently.

Herbert had been holed up in their room for over half an hour. Now, William knew intimately that scientific hermitude was a practice Herbert commonly and even enthusiastically took part in, but they had firmly agreed that no 'ungodly experiments' ( _Herbert had been pleased at that turn of phrase_ ) were to take place in their bedroom. After all, they both had to sleep there; William knew if it weren't for his urging there would be a Congo line of cadavers marching out of there. That left the question of just _what_  Herbert could be doing in there that could occupy him for so long. When it came to anything other than the bringing back of the dead, Herbert was notoriously fickle.

William was surprised he had lasted this long.

He tentatively knocked on the door, and received no response.

Now he was starting to worry.

"Herbert?"

Nothing.

Strange noises came out of the room, and William's imagination went wild with increasingly horrible images of what was happening to his poor little friend.

Well, perhaps not 'poor'- but certainly little.

He steadied his mind and hands as he took out his revolver. He knocked once more, and received a muffled groan as an answer.

His mind was made up.

The door opened easily under the force of his foot, and he raised the revolver in attack as he cried for Herbert to take cover.

He soon realised just what he was looking at.

Herbert's eyes were wide open, yet not alert as they normally were- they were watery and glazed, completely unfocused. His face was pink, but reddened quickly as William peered at his form.

He wasn't the only one flushing.

As Williams eyes slowly travelled his partner's body, he felt himself heat up from the scandal of it all; Herbert was laying on his back- naked- with his legs spread wide, one hand rubbing on his cock ( _Though it had stilled at William's unruly entrance_ ) and the other between his legs, holding something in.

William stared, his mouth agape.

_Is this... real?_

Never before had believed his fantasies could come true- these sorts of impure designs he dreamt up about his roommate were generally relegated to the back of his mind.

_But... this..._

Herbert squirmed uncomfortably as William continued to gaze at his nude form. "Will..." The gentle sound of Herbert's voice was enough to break William out of his reverie. He approached the man slowly, terrified of spooking him and losing this chance forever. He gingerly crawled to where Herbert was positioned. The blonde didn't seem to be running off anytime soon; he looked pleadingly at his assistant.

 _Oh, **Christ**_.

"I- Herbert," he began. Herbert didn't let him finish. He planted a forceful yet inexperienced kiss; clearly Herbert meant to excite him, but the chaste kiss only made his heart swell with affection. He gently coaxed the smaller man's mouth open before pressing his tongue in. Herbert clearly had no idea what to do- the thought that this was Herbert's first did unspeakable things to him.

The man below him groaned in pleasure and William felt the hand on his cock begin to move. Reluctantly, he pulled away from his partner to playfully shoo the hand on his dick away- Herbert was at first displeased, but it soon melted away as his hand was replaced by William's own. He unapologetically teased the swollen head, only straying down to give a barley-there brush to the base. Herbert keened, moaning his assistant's name. Unable to control himself, William leaned down to Herbert's neck to lick and suck at the pale flesh that lay exposed, pulling desperate pleas from the man beneath him. It was a side of Herbert that William had only seen in his most vulnerable moments- soft and rather meek, though the demanding hand on his back told him not to be so naïve.

Herbert, clearly unhappy about the pause in his pleasure ground his groin up into William's hand, groaning as he was pushed down. He gave William a look of unrestrained fury that was more than a little offset by his glassy, pleasured eyes. William snickered and acquiesced, giving Herbert a few more strokes before divesting himself of his own clothes, blushing furiously under the intense scrutiny of Herbert's gaze.

With both of them naked, William turned his attention from Herbert's member to the object deep inside of him. Herbert had not moved it since William's interruption, but he was obviously desperate to- he squirmed and writhed, attempting to move it in  _some_  way, crying out when it sent even the smallest amount of pleasure up his spine. William looked hungrily at the scene, returning to his post above the blonde. He slowly ran his hand down Herbert's thin leg, chuckling as Herbert playfully smacked him and told him to ' _hurry_ _up_ _already_ '.

William grasped the flared base of the implement, slowly pulling it out before ramming it back in. Herbert threw his head back, opening his mouth in a silent scream as the pleasure took hold of him. He shook uncontrollably as his assistant kept up his brutal pace, moaning and crooning as he took hold of his own cock, the dual feelings electrifying his body. Groaning at the sight of his undone lover, William took hold of his own cock and began eagerly stroking himself.

If William was in any proper sort of state, he might've been embarrassed at how quickly he approached his peak- but with the source of all his fantasies pleading and moaning, turning to putty under his hands, he supposed he could be forgiven. Besides, Herbert wasn't in a much better way; in fact, he was considerably worse, his cock spilling precum and his mouth spilling curses that grew increasingly high as he edged his orgasm.

William didn't torment him.

He rammed the object once more into the small body beneath him before Herbert was spent, his cum hitting his chest and splattering on his assistant's. The feeling of Herbert's hot release upon him and the sight of his exhausted body was too much- William followed him into oblivion, crashing into his orgasm. He came onto Herbert's own cock and his vision went white, releasing his death grip on the toy still inside his lover.

The two men panted, slowly coming down from their peaks. William cautiously removed the implement from Herbert, tiredly grinning at Herbert's exhausted groan. He lowered himself beside the man, taking him in his arms and raising the bed's thin blankets over them. William sighed contentedly, and Herbert wiggled closer to him, resting his face on the other man's chest.

"That was nice," he whispered. William smiled down at him, lowering his face for a chaste kiss-

**"KEEP IT DOWN!"**

Both men jumped.

_Well, there goes the mood._

Herbert laughed raucously; a genuine sound that William didn't think he'd ever heard from the man.

 _Well_ , he thought, _I suppose that more than makes up for it_.


End file.
